


Little Yellow Tags: Part 3

by lurkdusoleil



Series: Little Yellow Tags [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Off-screen Minor Character Death, Skank!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkdusoleil/pseuds/lurkdusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine finally tells Kurt about his past, and how he became a Skank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Yellow Tags: Part 3

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings in addition to those presented in the tags and those which have been mentioned in previous parts.

Kurt collapses face first. He hits pillows and rumpled sheets, his breath coming in hard and fast in a way he didn’t know he needed ten seconds before, when Blaine had been pounding it out of him. He’s naked and sweaty and tired and oversensitive from Blaine’s latest experiment, and he feels full and wet and tacky and...and  _amazing_ . He feels completely out of control, and it’s  _beautiful._

  
Blaine makes him feel...so  _ much _ sometimes.   
  
“Are you okay, baby?” Blaine asks, laying next to him, pressing up against him and rubbing his hand over Kurt’s back. Kurt turns his face toward Blaine and gives him a smile.   
  
“I’m incredible,” he says, feeling floaty. Blaine laughs at his borderline silly grin and pulls him in, rolling over and tugging Kurt onto his chest. Kurt twines a leg between Blaine’s and rests his weight on Blaine’s chest, and trusts him to hold him up. It’s a nice feeling.   
  
It’s all the other feelings slowly creeping up on him he doesn’t know what to do with. He and Blaine have been... _ dating _ , he guesses is the word, for a little while now. Nothing’s ever been said about the emotional side of it, or defined as  _ boyfriends _ , but they spend most of their time together, they go out, they do  _ this  _ whenever they get the chance, and considering Blaine’s parents never seem to be home, that’s a lot more than teenagers should probably be getting away with. But the feelings, they’re happening. Kurt is giving himself more and more to Blaine, and not just physically, not just how Blaine asked him to, when they’d started exploring this  _ special _ way of existing together, this strange exchange of power they discovered works for them. No, more and more Kurt is trusting Blaine with his heart. And it’s terrifying, looking up at Blaine now, muzzy and sweet and tired from fucking, trusting him when sometimes he feels like he doesn’t know anything about him.   
  
“What’s that look, beautiful?”   
  
Blaine brushes some hair off his forehead and looks down at him searchingly. It’s a definite part of this  _ thing _ (and Kurt doesn’t like thinking about what it might be labeled, because if he admits it he might have to explain it to anyone who finds out and that’s scarier than anything right now). They want honesty out of each other, in a world where everyone lies, even them. Kurt  _ knows _ he lies, but he’s only scratching the surface of Blaine’s, and that’s the whole thing bothering him now, he realizes. He feels like Blaine can see inside him, but all he can see is the surface.   
  
He reaches up and twirls a multi-colored curl in his fingers, watching the blue and red and black strands slide through his white fingers. When Blaine hums in pleasure, he looks back down, meeting eyes that look startlingly yellow in this light, piercing. And it hits him hard.   
  
“I feel like I barely know you,” Kurt gets out, and it’s a quavering admittance.   
  
“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, narrowing his eyes questioningly, a little suspiciously. Kurt cringes a little, but he’s taken the dive--he has to go through with this, it’ll eat him alive if he lets it sit inside him hungry and waiting.   
  
“I mean...I feel like I know you perfectly in one way. It’s kind of hard not to, with all the time we spend together, and what we... _ do _ .” He sighs deeply and tries not to bite his lip--Blaine doesn’t like seeing him worrying at it. “But I feel like that’s just one  _ you _ . It’s this...everyday you, this you that you are around me. And there’s a you that you are around people in school. I just...I want to know  _ you _ , the whole thing, all the little pieces combined. I feel like I only know a little bit.”   
  
Blaine smiles down at him wryly and leans down to kiss his hair.   
  
“Thank you for telling me,” he says. “How long’s that been eating away at you?”   
  
Kurt blinks up at him and gives him a smirk. Blaine knows him too well, and it’s proving his point. He doesn’t know if he could call Blaine on something like that--even when they’re so close like this, so open and together, he feels... _ distant. _   
  
“I think since we met,” Kurt admits. “You’re just...that first day, when we yelled at each other, you saw exactly who I was, you saw everything that was going on in my head, and you just wormed your way in, and...I don’t know, I thought I had these walls up, and you just waltzed on through.” He takes a deep breath. “But everytime I think I’m getting through the last of your walls, I find out I’m in a maze and there’s just more walls to go.”   
  
“You could always just...walk through the maze,” Blaine teases, “considering you’re already inside, and that’s more than everybody else.”   
  
Kurt pokes him in the side, and Blaine squirms, laughing a little. Kurt thinks, but doesn’t say,  _ I love you so much _ . Because he’s not sure he can say that, just yet.   
  
“I’m serious,” Kurt says. “The metaphor didn’t work as well as I was hoping, but the point still stands.” He sits up, rolling off of Blaine and facing their feet, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I just don’t know you like you know me, and that’s scary.”   
  
Blaine sits up next to him and puts an arm around his waist, laying kisses on his bare, bitten shoulder.   
  
“Okay,” he says, after a long pause. “What do you want to know?”   
  
Kurt lays his temple on his knees and looks back and up at Blaine, smiling.   
  
“Everything.”   
  
Blaine rolls his eyes and flops back on the bed, arms spread, curls bouncing with the force, and Kurt laughs, scooching to keep Blaine in his line of vision with his head still down. He’s comfortable, and he’s hoping this will take a while.   
  
“I don’t really know where to start.”   
  
Kurt considers for a moment.   
  
“Where did you grow up?” he asks.   
  
“Columbus,” Blaine replies. “Until I was eight. Then Los Angeles.”   
  
“Why did you move?”   
  
“Because my brother got custody of me, and that’s where he was living,” Blaine says. His face goes blank. “My parents...had put in their will that he would take care of me if they died, set up accounts for it, and for a bunch of other stuff. They were well off and everything. I just don’t think they expected it to happen when Cooper had just turned eighteen.”   
  
Kurt feels cold and frozen when he looks down at Blaine.   
  
“They--they--”   
  
“Died? Yeah.” He looks like it barely phases him now, but Kurt knows the pain of losing a parent, and Blaine lost  _ both _ . “Car crash, simple as that. My dad decided it was okay to do business on his phone while they were driving. Took a text message from his secretary, and swerved at just the wrong time. Rolled by a semi.”   
  
Kurt reaches down and takes one of Blaine’s hands, pulling it back to resting head, kissing his knuckles and massaging the skin with his thumbs.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he says simply, sincerely. Blaine just nods, clearing his throat.   
  
“Well, anyway,” he continues, a little awkwardly, “I got shipped to LA, to a brother who didn’t want me, didn’t expect me. He was living the life out there, going to auditions and picking up girls. He was barely home, I basically raised myself for the six years I lived with him. I spent a lot of time with his neighbor, a girl named Melody. She was kind of a punk.”   
  
“ _ She _ was kind of a punk?” Kurt jokes, running over Blaine’s body with his eyes--the piercings, the tattoos (even though there are only two of them), the colored hair. He’s missing his makeup and trashy clothes right now, but he’s obviously not a professional young gentleman.   
  
“Who do you think got me into it?” Blaine uses his free hand to gesture to himself, like he’s presenting himself in a showroom. “I was preppy and sharp-dressed until I was twelve. You probably would’ve loved it. I had just come out, and apparently the bowties and the gelled hair were too gay for a middle school Sadie Hawkins dance, even in LA. Or maybe it was that I brought a guy, I don’t know. But a couple of older guys beat the hell out of us. When I got home from the hospital with a couple of broken ribs and a concussion, she just...took me under her wing. I wasn’t actually supposed to go back to school for the rest of that year--I missed a lot in the hospital, and they didn’t think I could catch up, or should, because of my ‘emotional trauma.’ But Melody helped me out with homework and made sure I was ready. Taught me how to be tough. How to keep people away. She told me the trick was not to be able to fight them, but to make them not want to fight in the first place. And it’s worked up to this point.”   
  
“How’d you get back to Ohio?” Kurt asks. “You said you were only in LA for six years, so...you were fourteen?”   
  
“Yeah. My dad wanted me to go to his alma mater. Dalton Academy.”   
  
“The prep school?”   
  
“Mmhm. All four years, paid for in full. So off I went, shipped to boarding school. I was a trouble child by that point, so Cooper was happy to see me go I think. It was a little too much for him to get called into school for vandalism and his brother having an ‘attitude problem.’ So he figured Dalton could sort me out, I guess. I kept good grades, anyway, despite my other delinquencies, so Dalton welcomed me with open arms, perfectly ready to help such a troubled young man.”   
  
He says it with a pompous, mocking tilt to his words, and Kurt suspects he’s quoting someone, but he can’t be sure. Either way, Blaine looks disgruntled for a minute, but he continues his story, squeezing Kurt’s hands where he still holds one of Blaine’s tight against him.   
  
“I went for three of the four years. I did okay--good grades, I was technically supposed to be in an extracurricular but I got out of it because no one really wanted me in their club. So I took boxing lessons and Dalton let me use that as credit. End of junior year, some scumbag thought that my reputation for being a bad boy meant I was okay with him grabbing my ass and trying to shove his tongue down my throat. I punched him right in his smirky little face, and I was immediately expelled. There’s a zero tolerance policy for a lot of things at Dalton, and violence is one of them. Of course, him sexually harassing me didn’t count, not with a state’s attorney for a dad.”   
  
“Why didn’t you go back to LA, then?” Kurt asks. He lies down now, relaxing into Blaine’s side, snuggling up to his warmth. “Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t that where you should’ve gone?”   
  
“Probably,” Blaine says, playing with one of Kurt’s hands, stroking his fingers and pulling it up to look at his palm, tracing over it lightly. “I’d made a friend out here, though--I’ve told you about Trent before--and Cooper seemed to think he’d be a good influence on me. So he bought an apartment out here, stuffed me in it, gave me some allowance until I get my first trust fund at eighteen, and went back to his glamorous life of starring in commercials.”   
  
“That’s why no one’s ever home,” Kurt says. “I wondered.”   
  
“Works for me,” Blaine murmurs, kissing Kurt’s hand suggestively, flicking his tongue along his sensitive wrist. “Don’t you think?”   
  
Kurt doesn’t say anything about how lonely it must be. Because now, knowing more about Blaine, having heard from his own lips what his story is, he can  _ see _ it. It’s like Blaine handed him a key, and now he can see what’s beyond the door. Blaine  _ is _ lonely. Mostly by his own design, but still. He doesn’t hang out with anyone but Kurt outside of school, and even the Skanks don’t have much to do with him, because he doesn’t take part in their favorite pastimes, like hazing other students and shoplifting. He just hangs out under the bleachers and dresses like them, acts like them sometimes, and he’s sort of friends with Quinn sometimes, but mostly, he spends his time with Kurt. And Kurt’s got a life outside of Blaine, no matter how much he thinks he could give that up sometimes--Blaine insists he spend time with his other friends and his family, because Blaine takes care of him like that. And Kurt can see that it’s the right thing to do. He just wishes Blaine had something like that, too.   
  
Of course, Blaine could have something like that, if he wanted. Kurt’s invited him out before, with the other friends, and asked him to join New Directions, but every time it’s met with a gentle  _ no _ . Blaine’s his own guy, doesn’t seem to want to spend time with others. He spends a lot of time with music, with a guitar and sheets and sheets of blank sheet music paper, scribbling down notes. And he has a beautiful voice, but he doesn’t like people hearing it. He’s let Kurt hear it a few times, but Kurt thinks it might reveal too much--Blaine can’t lie when he sings.   
  
He rolls on top of Blaine and kisses him. Blaine telling him this, giving him this little advantage over him, this bit of knowledge and insight, that took a lot of trust. And yes, they trust each other already, but it’s so much harder sometimes, when the past is involved. Because it’s easy for someone to judge you, based on the past instead of the present. And Blaine, to whom being judged is what he expects, and what he cultivates his image for, just gave Kurt every tool to judge him. A map through his maze, and the means to destroy it. But Kurt just leans down and kisses him.   
  
“Thank you for telling me,” he says, feeling so, so much in that moment. “I know that was...a lot to ask.”   
  
“No it wasn’t,” Blaine replies, petting Kurt’s back, scratching his nails down lightly, making Kurt arch into him. “You shouldn’t be afraid to ask me things. Or tell me things, either.”   
  
Kurt doesn’t think there’s a hook on the statement, but he can’t help but feel it. He looks up, and wonders. Has Blaine seen  _ everything _ ? Has he seen the little hints, the things Kurt wants to say, that he can’t get out? That he’s scared to get out?   
  
But Blaine just trusted him. Maybe he should say something--he feels so close to Blaine right now, closer than he ever has before. And maybe he’s still silly with too many orgasms and the rush that always comes when they fuck, the emotions pulsing through him sweet and quick and heavy all at once. Maybe he’s putting too much on their trust, maybe Blaine was ready to tell him the whole time, maybe he was waiting to see if Kurt cared, maybe maybe  _ maybe-- _   
  
“I love you.”   
  
Kurt blinks. Blaine smiles down at him.   
  
“I do,” Blaine continues, to his shocked silence. “I know we haven’t... _ talked _ about this--” he gestures between them, “--but I do.”   
  
Kurt must be gaping at him like a fish, but Blaine just smiles serenely, as though Kurt could say nothing at all and he’d be perfectly happy just telling Kurt how he feels. And that’s when Kurt starts to think, maybe the Blaine that Blaine is when he’s with Kurt is the only one that  _ doesn’t _ lie.   
  
“I love you, too,” he says, easy and honest, like breathing.   
  
They share a grin for a long moment before Blaine leans up and kisses Kurt again.   
  
“Do you have to go yet?” he asks, checking the clock on his bedside table. Kurt doesn’t even look at it--not curfew or mall dates with his friends or family dinner or an estate sale at Alexander McQueen’s house could take him from this bed right now.   
  
“Never.”


End file.
